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21st April 2014
“Good morning, Boss. How was your weekend?” Degsy cheerily greeted him as the DCI took off his coat and hung it on the coat stand.
“My weekend, Derek, was both extremely refreshing and gut-wrenchingly frustrating.”
He threw his mobile in his top drawer and plonked himself in his chair.
“Well, you’ll probably need this then.”
Degsy offered Thurstan the mug of coffee he’d started making on seeing the Boss striding purposefully across the HQ car park. There was something about his demeanour, even at that distance, that had made him think all was not well.
Thurstan took the mug, placing it on his blotting-pad.
“What happened, Boss?” Degsy asked more out of politeness than curiosity.
The DCI took a mouthful of coffee and said: “He was there, Derek. He was fucking there.” Degsy looked at him blankly.
“Nickson, Derek. Nickson! He was staying at the same hotel. Left just as I was booking in.”
“Did you see him?” He sat down on the edge of the nearest chair.
“No,” Thurstan replied curtly. “But I’ll tell you how I know.”
For several minutes he recounted the incident at Llangrannog as his Sergeant sat engrossed.
“Even the description they were able to give me matches what we have of him at the moment and he’s still got the beard. Plus, he was down there with another bloke; shorter in height, fair hair, in his forties, wearing glasses, slightly overweight or stocky, depending on who I spoke to. I don’t know? Connected to the jobs? It could be the driver, given he’s used a false name and address as well, and paid cash too. I doubt very much he’s just a mate. But what were they doing there? They went walking along the north coastal path and they made it to New Quay because someone at the Pentre saw them come back in a taxi and I checked with the firm. They were picked up outside a pub there, so if they were doing a recce for a job it has to concern someone living or working somewhere along that section of the path. We need to look into the possibility, Derek.”
Degsy had taken a sheet of blank paper from the desk, folded it notebook size and was furiously writing on it as Thurstan spoke.
“I mean, the name and address he gave.” Thurstan wasn’t entirely sure whether he was still trying to convince himself or just Degsy at this point. “It’s pure him as far as I’m concerned.”
“At least we know he’s an Avengers fan,” Degsy quipped without looking up from his piece of paper. “And from what they told you of his drinking habits, like yourself, a fan of un-chilled Guinness.”
He’d stopped writing and was looking at Thurstan, who took another sip of coffee then said: “Well, I don’t mind telling you, Derek, that little comment of his almost drove me paranoid on Sunday night when the significance properly hit me. But, having given it quite some thought, I’ve decided it’s a titbit about me probably anyone I’ve ever had a drink with knows about ever since they brought the chilled stuff out. That they’ve been gathering such information is interesting. A little warning shot, I think, just to let me know. Just to let us know.”
“Do you think we should be worried?”
Degsy was suddenly thinking of the wife and kids and Thurstan saw it.
“No, Derek, not at all,” he tried to reassure him. “It’s just a message. A bit of mental jousting designed to disturb our focus and it certainly did that to me last night.” He sipped his coffee again, deep in thought. “No, that information most probably came from further afield than this office. I’ve never been for a drink with any of the staff, as yet, and even you didn’t know that about me, did you?”
“Well, I did actually,” Degsy confessed.
Thurstan frowned. “Who told you?”
“Well, Ralph, the porter at Lower Lane. I believe you used to work together when he was on the job. I was chatting to him a few weeks ago,” Degsy smiled.
“Well, there you go! Idle chatter picked up in passing. One of the foundations of intelligence gathering,” Thurstan said expansively, then added: “How is Ralphy, by the way?”
“He’s fine, Boss. He said if you’re ever out that way to give him a call and he’ll take a can of Guinness out of his fridge and put it on a radiator for ten minutes.”
“Good!” laughed the DCI then slapped his palms gently on the desk and stood up. “Right, let’s make some of those enquiries. Get Gandalph to help you and, if need be, Taffy. He might have some contacts out that way and, if not, just the fact he can speak the local lingo might help.” He eyed the clock on the wall. “I’ve got a meeting I have to attend so I need to get a move on.”